Operation: Anaconda
by Canderous Ordo
Summary: After a GUN cargo plane gets shot down in Brazil, it's a race between Sonic and allies, the Eggman GUN coalition, and local warlords to recover the cargo. Question is, what was so important on that plane to prompt the doc to launch an all out search?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well, folks, I'm almost home. One more month over here in Iraq. Yep, I'm still alive. I apologize for Pandora Guardian. This deployment absolutely killed whatever momentum I had going with that story. But, seeing as I'm almost home, I should be able to see this one to the end. This installment still continues the storyline of my other works, so if you haven't read my earlier stories, I suggest you do for the sake of continuation.

Alright, ages... now that I know the age differentials, here's mine:

Sonic: 21, DOB: 27 JAN 1982

Knuckles: 22, DOB: 17 JUL 1981

Amy: 19: DOB: 18 MAY 1984

Tails: 13 DOB: 10 JAN 1990

Rouge: 23 DOB 13 APR 1980

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot... well sorta the plot...

_Somewhere in Central Brazil. December 24, 2003. 2200 hours._

The rain continued to mercilessly permeate into Captain Wolf Mackenzie's boots. He could not remember a deployment where the weather was this miserable.

Back in April, he didn't even fathom _his_ unit, which consisted of twenty teams of twenty of the PoTCW's elite commandos with various combat support teams integrated amongst them, would be relegated to a counterinsurgency contract for the Brazilian government against a consortium of drug cartels vying for the overthrow of the current government, collectively calling themselves the Consortium of Brazilian Liberation. Granted, he would never underestimate the importance of any contracted mission, but he would rather be fighting Dr. Robotnik's burgeoning might, than doing any wetwork's dirty work.

Fact of the matter was, two factors kept the PoTCW from carrying on the fight against the newly formed G.U.N.-Robotnik coalition: lack of viable targets and lack of funds. The capture of Nack the Weasel was aimed to give the Phantoms more intel on the doctor's offensive capabilities, and shed light on more viable targets. Instead, Nack netted little advantage, if any. And as a final slap in the face, word came from the top brass that Nack had actually escaped from their custody three days ago. He wasn't too shocked about that; the weasel was once a U.S. Army sniper, and a CIA paramilitary operative before he was dismissed from both organizations.

Secondly, the PoTCW was strapped for cash. In fact, about 75 of their forces were scattered across four continents on contracted missions in a bid to refill the Phantoms' coffers. This contract in Brazil, which was worth almost 1 billion American dollars, was the most lucrative of these contracts, and in order to ensure its completion, the higher-ups assigned the mission to his task force commander, Colonel Shadow. Wolf silently wondered what was going through his friend's head when the Ultimate Life Form was given the order to deploy to Brazil.

He was brought out of his reverie when he heard a set of soggy footsteps plod their way through the rainforest toward him, and he instinctively readied his high-frequency katana, only to relax when Shadow's familiar face-concealing helmet came into view in his night vision goggles.

"What are you still doing out here, Wolf? I thought you'd be among your men?" Shadow queried, the voice masking effect of his helmet turned off.

The timber wolf grunted, and sheathed his weapon. "To be honest, sir, I've been thinking long and hard about our situation." A beat as he flipped up his NVGs. Looking into them was bad for the eyes. "Is our ledger really bad enough to send _us_ on a simple counterinsurgency contract?"

Shadow shook his head. "We're not really that bad off... well, we are, and we are not. You forget that we're in the Southern Hemisphere. Robotnik's expansion has already claimed southern Chile, and he has forward operating bases established there. There is the possibility of expanding our operations there and driving him completely off this continent."

Wolf sighed. "If you say so…"

Another few minutes passed before Shadow spoke. "Let me ask you this: do you have any reservations about not having anybody that you hold dear?"

Wolf blinked. "Uh, sir? Where is this coming from?"

Shadow laughed a bit, and shook his head. "Just pointless drivel. A question that I have asked myself that has bugged me ever since. I just need an outside opinion."

"If you would've asked me a year ago, the answer would've been 'no'." Wolf confessed. "But, truth be told, I think Lupis—"

"Oh, yeah! Navy Lieutenant Junior Grade Lupis Pavalov." Shadow allowed himself to chuckle. "I forgot she duped you into falling in love." As if to change tracks, he cleared his throat. "I've told you about Maria, right?" When the timber wolf nodded the affirmative, Shadow continued. "Lately, I've been having dreams of my past life with her. In particular, during this time of year. And I know I cannot go back to those days. I know you told me before not to become attached to my past, but when I look at our surroundings," he motioned at the rainy, mud sodden rainforest they were standing in. "Sometimes, I have my work more than cut out for me, and I hate it."

"Sir, I don't think she wanted you to be miserable for the rest of your life." Wolf counseled. "For one thing—"

"Colonel!" A heavy Russian accented voice called out. "We have hits on our radar! No IFF response!"

Shadow and Wolf exchanged glances, silently agreeing to banish the topic for now, and ran towards the task force's command post, a captured runway once used by one of the consortium's factions to transport the contraband they sold to keep them supplied. At the head of the runway was an SA-8 Gecko Surface to Air Missile system, and Shadow quickly jumped on top of the SAM launcher, and ducked his head down into the vehicle's cramped cabin. "What's the status, Gunny?" Shadow asked the canine gunnery sergeant commanding the vehicle.

"Sir, we've IDed the contacts' engine signatures; two G.U.N. type Su-33 Flankers, also known as the 'Blue Eagle', and an Russian-made An-124 cargo plane. Range, fifteen miles. All three are in formation just within the edge of our radar coverage, and bearing southwest to cross right across the middle of our coverage. They aren't within weapon range, yet. Just say the word, sir, and we'll go loud."

Shadow contemplated the situation. What in the world are G.U.N. aircraft doing over Brazilian airspace? Nonetheless, he was not about to just let this catch get away. The SA-9's effective range was a respectable 12 kilometers, which equaled seven and a half miles. He jumped into the cabin to get a better look at the vehicle's radar screen. "Standby, the bandits will be within range inside a minute." Shadow whispered. "Wait until they're almost on top of us, then go loud. Prioritize the cargo aircraft. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Another minute passed tensely. "Range: six miles, sir."

"Not yet…" just a couple more miles… Finally, the An-124 got within three miles. Time to strike. "Now! Go for the transport first!"

"Roger that!" With that, the SA-8's active radar woke up, and moments later, two surface to air missile roared to life from their launch rails, and raced through the stormy night toward their quarry.

"Holy shit! Mayday! We've been spiked! Brace for evasive maneuvers!" The pilot of the An-124 frantically shouted as he yanked hard left on the aircraft's flight stick, sending it into as tight a left turn as a pregnant yak could muster. However, even as he dropped countermeasure flares, he knew it was a losing battle. A few seconds after launch, the two SAMs impacted the aircraft, first on its inner left engine, then on its inner right engine, the explosions and the shrapnel from the missiles' payload effectively tearing off both wings, and sending the still intact fuselage spiraling down to earth like a flaming football.

"Shack on the target, sir! The cargo plane's going down!" The gunnery sergeant announced as the rest of the crew erupted in celebratory shouts.

"Good work, men," Even Shadow had to give credit where credit was due. "Prepare to—"

"Incoming!" Wolf warned. "Everyone stand clear of the vehicle!"

Nobody needed to look at the radar display to know that the Blue Eagles had broken formation and had launched a retaliatory attack. Two separate ear-splitting whistles let everyone know the two jets had released two GPS-guided bombs down at their SAM site. In haste, everyone scrambled out of the vehicle, and as far away from the killzone as possible. Within seconds of the last PoTCW marine getting clear of the vehicle, the first bomb hit dead on the armor, the explosion warping the Cold War vintage hardware into a twisted, burning, charred piece of scrap metal. The second bomb was really just an exclamation point for the first one, completely obliterating whatever was left of the SA-8 SAM, and two separate sonic booms followed seconds later.

Wolf just glanced sideways at Shadow. "Sir, what the hell was on that bird that we shot down that they're so pissed about?"

Shadow shrugged, and shook his head. "I don't know. But, first thing in the morning, I want you to send a team out to that crash site, and salvage whatever you can."

There was nothing Wolf could do except mutely nod his head, and take the order.

Well... I finally managed to get the plot out of North America. The jungle setting was inspired by SOCOM II: US Navy SEALs, and Metal Gear Solid 3. Anyways, next chapter, I'll warn you in advance. There will be Sonamy fluff...hears Sonic locking and loading ... Oh, c'mon! You can't still be mad about Tickle Me Sonic, can you! I wrote that almost two years ago!

Sonic: Damn skippy I am! I will never forget!

sighs Oh, well. If you have the time, please drop a comment or two in the form of a review, and I'll try and make sure Sonic doesn't find any ammo. Out!


	2. Cancelled Holidays

A/N: Hey, gang! It's your favorite soldering author! Good news! I got less than three weeks until I'm back in the states...

Sonic: locks and loads his M4, aims at me What! You left that Sonamy scene in there! Oh, that's it! Your tragedy comes now! pulls trigger, nothing happens ... What the!

Me: looking smugly, holding up a firing pin Yeah, your weapon won't work well without a firing pin in that bolt.

Sonic: ... Oh, that's okay. I can throw a bullet at you!

Me: ... Right. Anyways, let's get on with it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all except my M249 SAW... no wait a second! I was issued that. I don't even own that!

_Miami, __Florida __U.S.A.__ Sonic's apartment. December 25, 2003. 0715 hours._

The fog of sleep drifted out of Amy's mind when she realized she was no longer leaning onto the warmth of Sonic's body. The girl slowly opened one emerald green eye, brushing her now mid-back length head quills out of them, then opened the other one excitedly and sprang off the couch when daylight from the balcony screen door filtered into the room. Christmas mornings always seemed to infuse her with a well of vigor and cheer that even this morning's light drizzle could not slay. Add to the fact that this would be the first one with her and Sonic together, and absolutely nothing short of an apocalypse would break her mood. Now speaking of her boyfriend, where was he? A quick glance into the apartment's kitchen confirmed nobody in there, so that probably left his room. With a small smile hopelessly tugging at her pink lips, she skipped down the hall, and to his room. What she saw when she got to the doorjamb made her both shake her head and giggle at once. There was Sonic standing in front of his bed, clad in just a pair of Miami Heat basketball shorts, getting dressed with his back to her with headphones on completely oblivious to her, trying to sing along with Bone-Thugs-N-Harmony's "Mr. Bill Collector", and doing a horrible job of it as few people both knew the lyrics and could follow along at the group's fast pace. Her smile turning mischievous, she walked quietly up to him, and ran her hands lightly down his sides.

"Ahhh!" Sonic yelped, ripping off his headphones, juggling them in his hands briefly and nearly falling onto his bed from the start. He was about to spin around when he felt Amy's body heat through her shirt against his back and two arms embraced him from behind. He let the headphones fall onto his mattress, and grinned sheepishly. "How long were you watching me?"

Amy could not disguise the amusement in her voice. "Long enough." Her hands moved to his shoulders, massaging softly. "Really, Sonic. You are about the only person who'd listen to Bone-Thugs-N-Harmony over Nat 'King' Cole on Christmas." She sighed in mock exasperation. "I don't know what to do with you sometimes."

Sonic smirked. "Which is why you love me." He turned his head to capture her lips in a lingering kiss.

Amy's knees almost gave out on her every time the two kissed. This time was no different, as she had to latch back onto his waist to steady herself. Man, there's gotta be someway to make him melt… "Merry Christmas, sweetie." She breathed when they finally separated.

His smile had turned lopsided. "You, too… now can you let me go so that I get dressed?"

The mischievous smile returned full force on Amy's face. "Nope! I guess you'll have to go as-is."

So, his girlfriend wants to play, huh? So be it. "Wrong answer—hey!" He had planned to grab one of her arms and deposit her on the bed for probably a good tickling, but Amy was one step ahead of him, somehow grabbing hold of both of his hands and pinning his arms to his sides. His attempts to free himself were only token. What was she up to?

"Right answer." She whispered in her boyfriend's ear before her soft lips lightly kissed the nape of his neck, smiling when she felt Sonic's knees buckle slightly and he gasped trying to cringe away from her. So, ticklish there too, huh? Time to have some fun. "Found a sweet spot on you, did I?"

"Pshhhhh! There is no such thing on me!" Crap! Hold the line, Sonic! He tried to think manly thoughts. SCUD launchers, carpet bombings, Tomahawk miss—crud! Her lips this time found the spot where his neck and his shoulder met, and the combined kiss and tickle sensations was driving him up the wall. Line nuked. So this is what they meant by being killed softly. His mind was stuck between trying to escape her ministrations and letting her continue.

"No such thing, you were about to say?" Amy giggled, and slowly stroked the other side of his neck with a lone fingertip. "About to lie to me, huh? Shame on you!"

This battle was lost, and Sonic knew it the instant her now free hand started tickling the side of his neck. Now cringing his neck to one side completely opened the other side to her ministrations, and even though one of her arms held both of his, he didn't even have the will to resist. Heck, his knees had probably completely buckled because now he was sitting on Amy's lap on his bed. He either giggled, or gasped depending on which side was unprotected. "Ames, yohohou beeeetter ehehenjooooy this, 'cause whehehen you let meeee go, your trahahgedeeeey will come!"

"Say what you want, love. You know you're enjoying it."

Fortunately for Sonic's sanity, a half asleep Knuckles chose this time to stumble out of his room in just his bath robe. "Hey, what are you two… oh, my God! Close the freakin' door next time!"

Amy stopped her attentions, dropping her arm, and she and Sonic blushed a deep crimson. Amy was the first to recover. "Well, Merry Christmas to you too, Scrooge!"

Knuckles just folded his arms across his chest. "Hey, I'm jolly! I got the holiday spirit! It's just when I see my roommate getting it on—WHOA!" In retaliation, Sonic grabbed what he deemed the weapon of choice to throw at Knuckles, which happened to be a tennis ball, and launched it at him, not even caring that it merely hit the doorjamb.

"Just have your half of the rent by the end of the month, and you can talk." Sonic muttered.

Knuckles laughed. "Now look who's Scrooge, Ames!"

"Oh, shut up—"

"Enough, you two!" Amy ordered. Yeesh, things will never change between these two. For friends, the two do a lot of infighting. "I thought we agreed there would be no arguing between you two today."

Sonic sighed. "Fine. Knux, go ahead and wake Tails up. I'm about to cook some breakfast."

Knuckles arched an eyebrow. "Oh, no you are not cooking _my_ food! You probably got mono from what you and Amy were doing—"

"Oh, that's it. I'm gonna kick your ass!" With that, Sonic bound out of Amy's grasp to bring pain to a retreating echidna. The status quo is maintained in apartment #1203.

_Boa __Vista, __Brazil__. 0815 Atlantic Time._

"So, one hundred thousand American dollars just for a salvage run in the jungle?" A newly emancipated Nack the Weasel leaned back in his chair smoking a Cuban cigar, his booted feet propped up on the table in front of him. Just four days ago, he had escaped from one of the PoTCW's detention camps and fled to neighboring Mongolia, where he had gotten in contact with a favored former employer from Columbia, who had referred him to this contact for the Consortium of Brazilian Liberation, or CBL. "What can you tell me about this downed bird? How long ago was it shot down?" He spoke in Spanish, what he thought Brazil's official language was

"Less than twelve hours ago," the female CBL agent answered. Her wing of the CBL, the Brazilian Liberation Army, or BLA, was comprised of an all female leadership that looked down on all males as inferior. However, Nack's reputation as a marksman and as a shrewd tactician had to be respected by even the BLA. "It stormed all night last night, so the crash site should still be undisturbed. Our own forces have tried to search the area, but the mud-ridden jungle has made passage all but impossible."

"And what makes you think I'll sign on the dotted line?"

"The aircraft had G.U.N. markings." She answered, giving Nack pause. "Your friends in Columbia told us about your relationship with G.U.N., and how they owe you 30 million American dollars. If we do not want whatever was on the plane, you can simply pocket the cargo, and ransom it back to G.U.N. for a price of your choosing."

Nack considered for a moment, and then sat up in his chair, dropping his feet to the floor and taking a swig of his drink. "I'm in."

"Excellent news, Mr. Weasel. One word of warning: I suggest you do not waste time getting to that wreckage. Word has it one of Dr. Robotnik's egg carriers is heading for Brazilian airspace. Within a few hours, it'll be all over us. By the way, our official language is Portuguese, not Spanish."

Nack just looked at her. He thought she was just talking a different dialect of Spanish. "Why didn't you tell me beforehand?"

"Because I am able to understand the small nuances between the two languages." The woman replied with an amused grin. "Now, I suggest you get going."

_Miami, __Florida __U.S.A.__ Sonic's apartment. 1130 Eastern Time._

Meanwhile, in a moderately more peaceful location, a firm rapping on the apartment's door interrupted a spirited game of Halo.

"Hey, is someone gonna get that?" Sonic asked, still fully tuned into the game. Amy had to be camping somewhere on this map… "Hey, can you get that, Knux?"

"Wha… why do you think I'm gonna get it! You're the one who has barely moved the past minute!"

"Because you're in dead last—oh, son of a…" Sonic got a little careless, and ended up falling off the narrow catwalks of Hang'em High, and to his death.

Amy laughed. "Well, since you committed suicide, you now have plenty of time to get the door." She said sweetly.

Sonic rolled his eyes, got up, and quickly walked to the door. "Yeah, yeah. Y'all just want me to quit bringing the pain." He opened the door to see Rouge on the other side, a stack of presents comparable to her height to her left, and a stack of food to her right. Sonic smiled. "Hey! Merry Christmas! Glad you made it!" He said before the two comrades shared a hug. Almost immediately, everyone else abandoned the X-BOX and joined the hug line, with Amy in front and Knuckles bringing up the rear.

"Hey, guys! Merry Christmas!" Rouge smiled as she walked through the hug gauntlet, and when she got to Knuckles, wrapped him in a tight embrace. "So, how've you been, Red? I've missed you."

"Likewise. Merry Christmas." Knuckles said when they broke the hug.

"You too." She turned to Sonic, who was helping bring in the goods she brought. "Oh, and Boss sends his regards, Sonic."

Sonic smiled at the mention of Rouge's partner in crime in the CIA. "Scott Dowell, huh? How's he doing?"

"He's doing fine. Decided to stay in Baltimore with his family. So, who else is coming?"

"A friend of Amy's and her little sister." Knuckles answered, reclaiming his seat on the couch.

Tails sighed with exasperation. "That's just great," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "In that case, I'm hiding out in my room. Anyone who wants to come in, mind the tripwire in the doorway."

Amy just shook her head, placing a casserole dish full of macaroni and cheese on top of the stove. "Tails, just what do you have against Kristen?" Tails was about to start calling the flags he had against the fox girl when Amy continued. "Okay, maybe she was a little overboard with the affection thing when she first you, but hey! With your fame, you're not exactly an average kid, and besides that, you're an all around sweetie!"

"Gee, thanks a lot." Tails groaned, rubbing his temples to cover up the fact he was trying to hide a blush.

Amy giggled. "Okay, getting to the point, even you admitted that she's become likable ever since she learned to control herself around you."

"… Well, yeah… but—" Tails was at a loss for words.

"So?" Amy offered up with a knowing smile, looking the fox right in his eyes. "Can you still look me in the eye and say you have no feelings for her whatsoever?"

Tails tried, _really_ tried to look Amy in the eye, but for some reason, his gaze ended up on his shoes. "… I hate you…"

Amy laughed. "Aw, you _do _like her!"

"What! No I don't!" Tails exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"And you're blushing, too!" She said, pointing at his face. "That's too cute!"

"I—"

"Don't bother, brother." Sonic grinned. "Trying to argue with her about this lovey-dovey crap is a Catch-22 in and of itself. Your best bet is to ride it out and take it like a champ."

"Oh, you shouldn't be talking?" Rouge laughed. "If I understood Amy right, it took having your apartment burn down for you to see the light!"

Sonic spun around to Rouge. "Stay out of this, you! I don't need help losing arguments!" That got everyone laughing for a bit. "So, all we're missing are Tanya and Kristen—" As if on cue, rapping from the apartment door interrupted him. "Or maybe not. I'll get that." He moved to answer the door, but Amy's embrace from behind halted him. "Or maybe not."

Sonic just smirked when Tails got up to answer the door. "Unbelievable, Ames. You just set the kid up… then again; he and Knuckles did set me up during Valentine's Day. Payback in progress."

"Now, why is being 'set up' a bad thing to you guys?" Amy asked behind him, feigning hurt. "It wasn't so bad with you, was it?"

Sonic watched Tails answer the door, then share a mutual hug with the fox girl on the other side and exchange small presents. "I never said tha—" he cringed again when he felt Amy's lips brush the back of his neck. "Amy…?" He started, leaving the threat hanging in the air."

"What?" She asked, sounding completely innocent, grinning when he shivered slightly when she kissed the back of his back again.

"Do it again, and—!" He gasped when she did it again.

"And—hey!" Amy squealed when Sonic suddenly crouched, hooked her denim-clad legs in his arms, lifted her up piggyback style, and carried her back into the living room. "No fair! Put me down!"

Sonic grinned. "Now, if you do it now, you kiss carpet!"

Rouge just shook her head at the couple. "Man, those two are hopeless… Hey, Red!" She smiled at the echidna still sitting on the couch. "You eating with us? I'd really hate to have to eat for you!"

"Hold on! I'm coming!"

_Washington D.C. U.S.A. White House, Oval Office. 1200 hours._

This was no way to be spending Christmas, Scott Dowell thought as he absorbed the attendants of the meeting. President Dugan sat behind his desk, combing his thinning, gray hair back, while Defense Secretary Cummings and all four major military branch's chief of staff sat on one of either of the adjacent couches. Dowell himself, had decided to brood by himself against the back wall. Man, the wife would not be happy with this. And why did he have to be the only field operative that Director Wade could contact?

"Alright, men. I deeply apologize for forcing you away from your families on Christmas, but we now have a situation." Dugan began. "My counterpart in Brasilia contacted me about an hour ago. Apparently, last night, a G.U.N. cargo plane was shot down over Brazilian airspace. This morning at around 0930 hours, Dr. Robotnik and Thomas Bloodman made contact with President Vargas, and demanded they an explanation for the demise of the bird, and to recover its cargo. When he refused, Robotnik responded by sending on of his bigger Ravana-class egg carriers, designation: Leviathan, into the region. Once again, Robotnik made his demands. Once again, Vargas refused, and he reports that close to three thousand troops have landed so far in central Brazil. In addition, the _Leviathan_ has imposed an arial blockade of the entire country with its onboard airwings. Needless to say, Vargas is asking for our help. General Wilson? What's our army's troop strength?"

"Sir, unfortunately, most of the Army's combat strength is either in Iraq, or Afghanistan, and we're stretched thin as-is." The Army's Chief of Staff lamented.

Dugan rubbed his temples. "Indeed… hmm…"

"Sir, the USS _Abraham Lincoln_ and its battle group should still be in fair proximity to the region, but it will still take them about three days to get into effective combat range." Admiral King, Chief of Staff of the Navy reported with a bit of a southern drawl. "There are two Marine brigades attached to the battle group, more than enough to drive out the current force there."

Dowell took this time to make himself heard. "Excuse me, Admiral. You know that a Ravana-class carrier has the capacity for about five maneuver brigades, right?" Now he had the full attention of everyone in the room, Dowell continued. "What I'm saying is before anyone jumps to any invasion conclusions, keep in mind that one, three thousand troops is nowhere close to a Ravana's troop capacity, and two, three thousand is nowhere close to enough boots on ground to occupy a country as big as Brazil. But, it is enough to search that rainforest for that downed bird." The bloodhound allowed a pause to consider the best course of action… and mentally cursed up and down when he came to the same conclusion. "Evidently, whatever was on that bird is important enough to violate Brazilian sovereignty. We need to find out what was on that bird, and if possible, find it before Robotnik does. For that reason, I recommend we send an advance intel team ahead of the _Lincoln'_s battlegroup. If the military gets involve now, Robotnik will simply up the ante." Dowell sighed. Man, did he need a Newport right about now…

Silence filled the room as all of the high-ranking officers mulled Dowell's proposal. Then, SecDef Cummings spoke. "I concur, Mr. President. If we do need to send in the Marines to assist the Brazilian government, it would be smart to have some intelligence assets on the ground in advance."

Dugan's gaze panned around the room, receiving a concurring nod from each of the high-ranking officers. "Then, it's settled. Dowell, find your partner in crime, and get your asses down to Brazil."

Dowell just blinked. "But, Rouge is down in Florida visiting Sonic and his friends, sir." He answered.

Dugan smiled. "Even better. I'm willing to bet that Sonic will be very interested in what's happening down south. If you can, see if you can enlist Sonic's help on this. I'll instruct Director Wade to send an entire support team with you. I'll give you three hours to prepare. Dismissed."

Listlessly, Dowell made his way out of the White House. "Why does shit have to go down during Christmas?" He moaned to himself, the chilly air biting though his heavy coat. "Well, time to make some calls that's sure to piss some people off…" With that, he lit up a cigarette, pulled out his cellphone, and called first his family, then Rouge.

_Miami, Florida U.S.A. Sonic's apartment. 1220 hours._

"So, let me get this straight," Rouge began, addressing Sonic. Everyone had already opened up presents, eaten, and were now in the living room, either watching the Orlando Magic/Cleveland Cavaliers pregame show, or just chatting. "At Amy's college Christmas party last year, you say she got a little happy with the mistletoe—"

"Wrong," the hedgehog corrected from his seat on the living room's dirty white carpet. "She got **very** happy with the sprigs." When Amy gave him a disbelieving look, he reiterated. "Don't even try to deny this, Ames! You had a proverbial minefield in that place!"

Knuckles laughed. "Hey, I remember that! An hour in, I see Sonic in the building's halls, walking around looking only at the ceiling, holding a Zippo like a weapon! I didn't know what he was doing until I walked past him to the bathroom and I saw a burnt mistletoe sprig hanging pitifully in a doorway!" His mind had reconstructed the scene with unerring precision, and he burst into hysterics.

Realization now dawned on Amy's face, and she pointed an accusing finger at Sonic, smirking. "So, it was probably you who tripped up the sprinkler system, because next thing I know, it kicks on, and everybody runs out the building in terror!"

Sonic couldn't help but smile. "Yeeeah. Let's just say I had to hide before one sprig burned enough… needless to say, I didn't get back to it in time, and… yeah." He just left it there while the gang got a good laugh from the memory.

It wasn't until Rouge felt her cell phone vibrate when she stopped laughing. She quickly excused herself, and headed towards the quieter back rooms. She checked the incoming caller's number, and furrowed her eyebrows. She talked with Scott earlier before she left her hotel. Why is he calling now? She hit the speak button. "This is Rouge."

She heard a sharp exhale from the other end before the bloodhound responded. "Hey, kid. I got some shitty news to tell you. Our Christmas is over."

"What the hell is this about, Boss!"

"Hey, don't get angry at me." Dowell snapped, sounding hurt. "I've already been cursed out by the wife for a good ten, fifteen minutes… Now, I just had the displeasure of meeting the President and his top military advisors at 1600 Pennsylvania. Are you aware of what's going on in Brazil?"

"Well, no. Aside from a popular resistance formed by some drug cartels? No."

"Sonic's house has satellite TV, right? Have him flip it to CNN."

She turned around, only to almost run into Knuckles. Apparently, he had heard her outburst. "Is everything okay?" He asked.

"I really don't know." She answered back with raw uncertainty as she walked back into the living room. "Hey, Sonic. Can you please turn the channel to CNN?" When Sonic gave her a questioning look, she explained. "Boss is on the phone."

"Oh, hell… ow what!" Without further hesitation, he changed the channel from the basketball game to CNN, and nearly swallowed his own spit when he saw the headline: Robotnik/G.U.N. forces land in central Brazil. "What the hell! Rouge, toss me the phone."

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me…" Amy murmured, her cheerfulness stunted for the first time today.

Sonic just gave her a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I'm not looking forward to this either." He caught the phone that Rouge tossed to him, and spoke into the receiver. "Dowell, what the hell is going on up there?"

Dowell groaned. "Yeah, I'm not real thrilled about this either. I'm supposed to be picking Rouge up at the airport down there, then flying straight to Brasilia. Anyways, a G.U.N. cargo plane went down in the Amazon, and I'm guessing Robotnik wants whatever was on that bird badly. Us, and a support crew are trying to recover the cargo, and probably lay down intel for the Marines to help Brasilia expel the egg's troops."

A soft hand on his shoulder let him know Amy was trying to listen in on the conversation, and Tails was shamelessly leaning an ear toward the phone. His mind was already made up. "Can you divert your bird to 'The Strip'? If that cargo is that important, it's a good idea that I get in on this."

A soft sigh of relief escaped Dowell's lips. "Good to know. My crew's getting on the bird now. I'll see you in three hours."

Sonic sighed. "Right. Three hours. Out." With that, he hung up, lobbed the cellphone back to Rouge, and addressed everyone else. "Alright, people. Shit's hit the fan, so I'll be out of town for about a week."

Amy groaned. "Just as I was afraid of." She embraced Sonic again. "Sorry, Sonic, but I can't let you go alone."

Sonic gave her a look. "What do you mean 'alone'? I'm tagging along with Rouge… unless you're saying you want to come along—"

"You think I was kidding when I once said I was willing to stick with you wherever you go? If you're going, I'm coming with you!"

"Great." He muttered with a smile. "Knux, Tails? What about you two?"

"Why are you even asking? You know I'm with you!" Tails concurred.

Knuckles just shrugged, pointing at Tails. "What he said."

"I don't know what to do with y'all…" Tanya muttered. "Ames, you better take care of everyone." The two friends shared a brief hug.

"Tails, the Hurricane is good to go, right?" Sonic asked.

Tails nodded. "Yep. Basic load is already mounted." He noted the look of sadness on Kristen's face, and against his better judgment, wadded over to the girl and patted her shoulder. "You okay?"

Kristen nodded, offering a small smile to her two tailed contemporary. "Just disappointed, that's all. It's a shame this had to happen on Christmas." Without warning, she sprung up to her feet, catching Tails off guard, and embraced the twin-tailed fox tightly. "Take care of yourself, Tails. I wanna see you again." She said after she let him go.

"Sure."

"Well, I guess Christmas is cancelled now." Sonic muttered. "Anyone who has had a hand in saving the world at least once, meet up at 'The Strip' packed up and ready to go by three. Business has picked up.

Yep, the mood is about to change. Please leave a comment or two in the form of a review. I may be able to get a third chapter done before I go to Kuwait next week. Out!


	3. Border Crossing

A/N: Whew! Merry Christmas, everyone! I am back! So sorry for the lack of updates. I planned to update before I left Iraq, but redeployment plans went faster than I expected. And you know what? I still haven't seen my computer! I'm using my cousin's while I'm on leave. So, without further delays, here's Chapter 3!

Military lingo used:

AO: Area of Operation

LZ: Landing Zone

BDU: Battle Dress Uniform

bogey: unidentified aircraft, presumed hostile.

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

HUD: Head-Up Display

Splash: To shoot down (an aircraft)

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story except the ideas.

_Somewhere in Central Brazil. December 25, 2003. 1500 hours, Atlantic Time._

"Shadowcaster, Shadowcaster, this is Alpha Male, over." Wolf spoke tiredly into his two-way radio. His team had been out in the bush for the past eight frustrating hours, and after twenty square miles, all they had come across so far is part of the An-124's wing.

"Alpha Male, this is Shadowcaster. Go ahead, over." Shadow's artificially filtered voice responded on the other end.

"Shadowcaster, this is Alpha Male. Sir, my men have found nothing in this AO. I suggest sending additional assets to the outlying areas, over."

"Alpha Male, this is Shadowcaster. Our priorities have changed, break." Shadow paused, unwittingly adding undue tension to the situation. "Your orders are to prepare for extraction. Rally your men to grid coordinates bravo-tango-tree-two-eight-four-niner-one-tree-niner. How copy, over?"

Wolf had someone dialing in the coordinates on their GPS device before responding. "That's a good copy. We are proceeding to those coordinates."

"Be advised," Shadow started. "A large enemy element is may be scattered between you and the LZ. The Hinds will arrive in thirty minutes. Shadowcaster, out." With that, the channel went dead, and Wolf replaced his radio.

"You get those coordinates, Lance Corporal?" Wolf asked.

"Yes, sir." The young marine answered, and let the device point the right azimuth for him to face. "LZ's this way." He announced, pointing ahead.

"Then let's move with a purpose. There's supposed to be a lot of bad guys in the area now." Wolf motioned the rest of his element to move out, and they started picking their way through the mud and undergrowth.

_Somewhere else in Central Brazil. 1510 hours..._

"This is some miserable shit..." Nack grumbled to himself after he dismounted his borrowed truck, landing into a calf deep section of mud. He was doubly thankful he wore boots, otherwise he'd have to change socks already. He stood not too far from the edge of a bluff that gave a fairly nice over watch point of the surrounding jungle. After prying his feet out of the mud, he walked over to the edge and pulled out his binoculars. "Funny, there's no telltale scar in the jungle's canopy. Either the plane crashed somewhere else, or--" His peripheral vision caught a metallic glint in the distance, and the weasel set the binoculars to maximum zoom. Although concealed by the trees, he could faintly make out the G.U.N. insignia on the piece of metal. Probably from the aircraft's wing. A quick scan of the surrounding area yielded nothing else. Despite his best attempts to think of a more appealing scenario, he kept arriving at the worst-case, and most likely scenario: The aircraft's remains were scattered all over the jungle. "An Easter Egg hunt. Dammit!"

He was about to jump back in the Chevy S-10 when incoming jet engines made him turn his view skyward. A flight of seven of Robotnik's assault dropships were flying low over the jungle's canopy, east to west. Meaning they were most likely full of the doctor's infantry bots. "...Shit..." he sighed, put away his binoculars, casually took out a Marlboro, and lit it. "Well, at least they don't know exactly where the cargo is. I still have a chance!" With that, he waded back through the mud, got back into the Chevy, started it up, and made his way down to the lower jungle.

_Somewhere in Central Brazil. Captured villa: PoTCW Command Post Arrowhead. 1600 hours..._

"Wolf!" Shadow called out as soon as the timber wolf stepped out of the Mi-24 Hind-D that extracted him, and onto the villa's tennis court that served an improvised helipad. Early in the campaign, the PoTCW were quick to identify and capture the residence of one of the CBL's main leaders, then convert the $3.3 million estate into a viable fortress. The building itself served as a headquarters, supply depot, and dining facility for the brigade's worth of soldiers deployed, while a tent city was situated to the rear of the property to provide lodging for troops as they rotated in and out of patrol bases throughout the country.

The captain jogged over to his commander, and fell in step to his left as they walked into the captured villa that served as the task force's command post. "Sir, what happened?"

"Wolf, I know you and your men have been in the bush the whole day, but your team is on 24 hour standby." Shadow answered. "New, alarming developments have just occurred."

Wolf gave him a quizzical look. "The Consortium? There's no way they have the capability to present so much of a threat to put my men on 24-hour standby."

Shadow dragged out an exasperated sigh. "No. But, it's not the Consortium we're talking about."

"What?" Wolf froze for a second, and had to jog a little to catch up.

"I'm briefing all team commanders when everybody's present. We're just waiting for Oscar Team's commander, and we'll get started."

_Somewhere over the north Caribbean Sea. 1540 hours, Eastern Time._

The CIA's C-17 Sonic and gang were flying in had been radically transformed from its original transport mission, to a heavily armed aerial command and control craft. A new radar array powerful enough to rival any AWACS aircraft had been installed, in addition to two remote 20mm Vulcan cannon turrets mounted on the top and bottom of the aircraft, as well as a 90mm flak gun mounted on its underside. And if that wasn't enough protection from air threats, Tails was flying escort in his Hurricane, an aircraft the fox said would "redefine 'air dominance'".

"Hey, Dowell! A new advisory just in from Langley: Fighters from the _Leviathan _have begun to impose an air blockade. Not even commercial flights are allowed to enter or leave the country." Simon Carter, an African American just a few months short of 35, reported from his station in the aircraft. A former army signal intelligence, or SIGINT specialist for ten years, he proved his worth during Operation: Desert Storm by listening in on Iraqi radio transmissions, and forwarding the transcripts back to Allied Command in Saudi Arabia for translating. The information he uncovered, from the positions of enemy SCUD sites to tank battalion locations had earned him a Bronze Star as a lowly specialist. He'd been medically discharged since 1998 with a blown knee, and has enjoyed desk work in the CIA's SIGINT department for the past four years.

"Roger that." Dowell nodded. "Relay that to Tails."

"So, what's the count now?" Sonic asked the bloodhound while rummaging through a box full of woodland camouflage BDUs, finding a set his size, and putting it on.

"At present, about five thousand. Estimates from Langley say we'll have a full division on our hands when we get on the ground."

"Great..." Sonic picked out another set of BDUs. "Ames! Head's up!" He lobbed it over to the unsuspecting girl, who barely caught the articles before they hit her face. "You're coming with us to the bush. The jungle's a low visibility environment, so we're gonna need all the eyes we can get." When she gave him a look, he just grinned. "Don't worry. You've been ready for a while; I just ain't say it yet."

"Alright, listen up!" Dowell started. "We just got an interesting tidbit of intel from our embassy in Brasilia. Get a load of this one: The Brazilian government recently employed a defense contractor to help with their counterinsurgency operations. That same contractor claims responsibility for shooting down that G.U.N. bird over the jungle last night. Guess who said contractor is? Our friends from last April."

"What!" Everyone sounded off, not in unison though, and started murmuring amongst themselves.

"Moreover, the commander of the force there is expecting reinforcements to arrive. Looks like they're gonna up the ante."

"They're planning for an all-out war." Rouge murmured. "What about our embassy personnel? Are we evacuating them, too?"

"No." Dowell answered. "Navy SEALs are en route to get them out. The embassy will be empty by the time we get there. Our primary mission is just to find the cargo on that downed aircraft."

"... Okay... what's our secondary?"

Dowell chuckled. "Well naturally, Langley wants us to eliminate all targets of opportunity. Just don't take too many chances, as there are just four of you. Not to mention I suggest you split into two teams to double your search area."

"Can we expect any coaction from the PoTCW?" Sonic asked.

Dowell groaned thoughtfully. "Well, while it's true that they're the enemy of our enemy, they probably have their own mission. I wouldn't cling to it like a lifeline, though."

Sonic smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

_Somewhere near the Venezuela-Brazil border. 2230 hours, Atlantic time..._

"Flying over Venezuala. Altitude: 30,000 feet. Approaching Brazilian airspace. ETA to destination: 4 hours." The C-17's pilot announced over the aircraft's PA system.

"Anything new?" Sonic asked, kneeling down by a full weapons rack in the plane's rear, and inspecting one for himself. He once swore to himself that he'd never use a weapon, and for a while, it was a reality he prided himself for. Numerous victories over Robotnik over so many years without once picking up a weapon. It wasn't until a fateful deep reconnaissance mission almost three years ago without support from friendlies, when he was pinned down by withering suppressive fire that would've killed him ten times over if he moved from his cover. Seeing no other solution of coming out alive, he picked up a downed bot's AK-74 near him, and fired behind his cover to neutralize the suppressive fire. From then on, he had to admit, and love the tactical advantages a weapon gave him. Make no mistake, though. He still hated the damned things, even if they did save the lives of his comrades a few times. Though strangely enough, for someone with a love-hate relationship of firearms, he was a very adept marksman.

"Nothing new." Dowell answered.

Sonic didn't even realize he was absorbed in his thoughts until Amy lightly tapped his arm. "Something wrong?" She asked when he looked up.

He shook his head, and resumed his inspection of the M4 in his hands. "Nah. Just spaced out for a second." After expertly cocking the weapon a couple of times and passing his inspection, he presented the weapon to Amy. "You remember how to work one of these, right?"

"But, I already have a weapon!" She exclaimed, and flashily twirled her hammer around.

Sonic just looked at her. "...Rrrrright. Never mind Eggman's elite E-Series bots, but his regular infantry bots can order a new AK-74, assemble it, lock and load, intentionally jam it, fix the jam, and fire before you can close in for that hammer." When Amy stuck her tongue out at him after taking the weapon, he laughed. "There's a red dot optical sight system equipped on that one, similar to the one on my paintball gun. That one works the same. Just keep that weapon on "SAFE" until you have it pointed at your intended target. Then, let me know you're gonna fire before you take the shot. And you better not use "BURST" at any time. Name of the game is to conserve ammo. Stick around until I get my weapon so I can zero your sights."

"Gotcha."

"Well, might as well stick with the favorite..." Sonic mumbled and withdrew an M4 with an attached M203 grenade launcher inspected it, then attached another red dot optical sight to the weapon's built-in rail system.

Another ten minutes passed before the pilot spoke over the PA system. "All passengers, be advised. We are tracking two bogeys closing in from the east. Range: 100 miles. I repeat..."

"Dammit!" Dowell hissed, ran up to the cockpit, and keyed the Hurricane's radio channel. "Hey, kid! Wake up! We may have trouble!"

The fox's nonchalant answer completely threw Dowell off, the cockpit's monitors and HUD casting him in an eerie fluorescent green light. "Sheesh! Calm down. I've been tracking these guys for the past five minutes, and wondering when you guys would pick'em up." As if trying to negate Dowell's impending argument of taking the threats too seriously, he added as an afterthought. "Don't worry. They're just Hammerheads. They carry Archers. They can't touch us yet..." Tails had targeted the lead bogey, and noticed that its airspeed was steadily increasing. "But, it looks like they wanna make a fight outta this. Oh, I got something for'em! Breaking to attack!" With that, Tails banked left, and yanked back hard on his flight stick, sending the Hurricane into a tight left turn until the two Hammerheads' target markers were in the center of his HUD. Once there, he switched his radar from target acquisition to fire control, switched to AIM-54 Phoenix missiles, and loosed two of them from their internal bay. "Missiles' away!" A tense minute passed as the targets appeared to move erratically around the HUD... then disappear. "Splash two! Picture clear! Should be smooth sailing all the way to Brasilia. Let's get outta hear before their friends come looking for'em."

"Gotcha." Dowell answered. One thing's for sure, Dowell didn't add, Robotnik's forces will probably know the U.S. about to enter the fray. Namely: Sonic and gang.

Aaaand that's it for now! Once again, sorry for the delay in getting this one out. Please leave a comment or two in the form of a review. I finally pick my computer up from my Pops later on this week. Merry Christmas!


	4. Hit The Ground Running

A/N: Wow! I can't believe I let this story sit this long without updating! My sincerest apologies, people. Army life's been bringing me down. Ever since I came back from leave, I've been hit with detail after detail... now, I'm at my wit's end. Anyways, this ain't the place the drabble about my personal life, so I'll let y'all read on!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

_Brasilia, Brazil. U.S. Embassy. December 25, 2003. 2245 hours._

A mission of this type was not entirely unusual for U.S. Navy SEALs. In fact, the entire fire team merely shrugged at the fact of missing Christmas with their families. However, something about the atmosphere of the Brazilian capital was uncharacteristically calm, given the country's situation. No military aircraft in site, no MPs patrolling the streets, no air raid sirens. In fact, the capital remained absolutely untouched by Robotnik's forces, and that's what had Lieutenant Junior Grade Hector Vasquez Garcia, and his SEAL Team 3 fire team unnerved. Five thousand enemy troops so far inside the country, and a Ravana-class egg carrier holding position a hundred miles off the southeastern coast. Vasquez knew first hand from Operation Blackbeard that the smaller Rakshasa-class carriers could project that much power, so why send the larger fleet carrier? And why was the doctor holding back?

A call on his radio interrupted his thoughts, and he casually flipped a switch to open the channel. "Go ahead."

"Sir, all embassy personnel have been accounted for, and all classified documents destroyed. We're ready to pop smoke." Petty Officer First Class James Barnes, SEAL Team 3's only other survivor of Operation Blackbeard reported.

"Good. The choppers are already on their way. ETA: ten minutes. Get everyone to the roof."

"Yes, sir. Warhammer, out." A few minutes passed before the rest of SEAL Team 3 filed onto the roof with the embassy personnel in tow, and Barnes made a beeline for Vasquez. "Hey, LT! We got Petrarch on the line!"

"Dammit, this can't be good..." Vasquez moaned and picked up the receiver from the radio set on Barnes' back. "Yes, sir. This is Talon 1." The next thing Admiral Petrarch said confirmed the SEAL's foreboding, and he swore viciously under his breath. "Yes sir. Talon 1, out,." He sighed and replaced the receiver.

"Well, what'd he say?" Barnes asked.

Vasquez glared at his NCOIC for a second before replying bitterly. "What the hell do you think he said!"

Barnes sighed. "Shit... when are we getting in the shit?" He asked casually.

"ASAP."

_Somewhere over Central Brazil. December 26, 2003. 0552 hours._

"Tails, this is Stork 1. We are ten minutes out. What's our jump status, over?" The C-17's pilot asked the young fox, who had been orbiting over one of two drop zones for the past twenty minutes.

Tails checked the Hurricane's radar again, which had been turned up to full power, which was powerful enough to pinpoint moving cars in New York rush hour traffic. Nothing notable on the ground, no enemy dropship activity in the past twenty minutes within ten miles, but interesting enough, he did detect a couple of flights of ancient MiG-21 Fishbed fighter-bombers, possibly going on search and destroy missions. According to the CIA's report, Brazil had no MiGs in their air force, which meant they must belong to the PoTCW. Man, was the defecation going to hit the ventilation. "Stork 1, this is Tails. DZ Alpha's clear. I am RTB (Return(ing) To Base). Out."

_Five minutes later..._

"Five minutes to drop off!" The senior jump master at the rear hatch of the C-17 announced, and Rouge and Knuckles made their way toward the rear.

"Man, you two are lucky you don't need 'chutes." Sonic complained when Rouge and Knuckles passed by him. The entire group was geared up for a HALO (High Altitude, Low Opening) jump, complete with ballistic helmets with attached oxygen masks. "The main and reserve both weigh a ton!"

Knuckles smirked smugly. "Unless you need a tampon, quit your bitching! This HALO jump was your idea, after all!"

Sonic scoffed playfully "Oh, you're one to talk, one who complains every time we get on a bird! I should give you a whole box of'em! Speaking of which, I just don't get this: you bitch about flying in a bird, but you're more than willing to jump outta one. Care to explain?"

Knuckles just shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "When I figure that one out, I'll let you know."

"Right. Just remember to hit the ground running. Have a safe landing, and good hunting." With that, the two roommates shook hands, and hugged briefly before checking their gear one last time.

"Hey! We're already about to jump?" Amy had finally emerged from the C-17's bathroom after ten minutes, getting out her last 'anxiety shits' before the drop off Somehow, she had convinced Sonic to let her take her hammer along, but it was painted olive drab instead of its fluorescent ensemble of yellow and red, and was slung behind her back uncomfortably beneath her parachute along with the M4 Sonic issued her..

"Wow! I thought you weren't gonna make it out, girl!" Rouge teased. "You alright?"

Amy sighed, never having experienced freefall for more than thirty feet before. "I guess..."

Sonic smiled, rubbing her shoulders. "Don't worry, kid. You're in good hands."

Rouge nodded. "Right. You two just remember we need to hit the ground running. Oh, and we need to contact Boss when we finally hit Terra firma. He'll probably just remind us of our mission and establish the rule of engagement."

"One minute to drop off! All jumpers put on your oxygen masks!" The jump master ordered. "All jumpers lock, load, and move to the rear!"

With that, the group put on their masks, locked and loaded their weapons, and headed towards the rear hatch. With thirty seconds left, the compartment's amber light turned on and rear hatch opened, revealing the first rays of sunlight shooting over the eastern horizon and bathing the cabin in a bright orange light..

"Sunrise..." Amy murmured.

"Any insurgent camps in the jungle will be at their most alert for the next hour." Sonic warned. "Everyone be heads up for any gunfire on the way down."

"Green light in ten..." The jump master began his countdown. "Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, green light!" Without any hesitation, Rouge and Knuckles jumped, fully trusting their natural gliding abilities to see them safely to the ground.

Amy took one look at the 20,000 foot drop awaiting her, breathed a deep calming breath, closed her eyes, and let herself fall forward out of the aircraft.

Sonic smiled. "Whew! I thought I actually had to push her out." With that, he joined his comrades in their freefall down.

_PoTCW Command Post Arrowhead, same time..._

"Colonel? Are you up?" A voice seeped through the otherwise silent quarters/office. "This is Corporal Stipanovich."

Shadow stirred for a moment, then began to fully awaken, very miffed that someone would have the audacity to wake him up after only three hours sleep. He had spent mos of the past eighteen hours either going over intelligence reports from the field and from radio intercepts, or reporting back to PoTCW command and requesting reinforcements. Any sort of personal time was a scarce commodity since Robotnik's forces arrived in country. He checked his watch. Only 0600 hours. "I thought I gave specific orders not to wake me until 0800!" The ebon colored hedgehog growled under the camouflaged poncho liner that served as a blanket.

"Yes, I know sir." The corporal replied. "However, Captain Mackenzie from Alpha team is on the radio, and is asking specifically for you. Claims it's something you definitely want to know."

Shadow sighed. So much for at least five hours sleep. Rarely did Wolf misjudge on these things. "Very well. I'm on my way. Carry on." Reluctantly, he threw the poncho liner off of him, donned his concealing helmet, and ran to the signal room. After requesting a cup of extra strong coffee from a random technician in the signal room, he picked up the receiver. "Alpha Male, what do you got, over?"

_In the jungle..._

"Sorry to wake you sir, but I have a visual on a U.S. military aircraft about three or four clicks from my position." Wolf answered, radio in one hand, and spotter binoculars in the other hand. "Hold on. Stand by. We have jumpers. I say again, we have jumpers. I count... four of'em."

A beat. "Copy that, Alpha Male. My guess is they're special forces. Just give them a wide berth."

Wolf focused the binoculars further. "That's a negative, sir. They are not U.S. Special Forces... at least not any regular special forces. Check this out: two of the jumpers don't even have 'chutes... and one of them looks like he or she has a big mallet slung on their back."

_Back at Arrowhead..._

Shadow sighed. Why was he not surprised that Sonic would be all over this? Finally, that coffee came, and he lifted his helmet a little and drank it straight. "Okay, Wolf. Here are your orders. I want you to monitor their movements. Until I say otherwise, they are not to be touched."

"Yes,sir--" AK fire suddenly cut through the channel, cutting Wolf off as he sought cover. "Dammit! Colonel, I'll get back to you later! Out!" With that, the channel went dead.

_Somewhere else in the jungle. 0804 hours..._

"Good, no gunfire on the way down." Sonic was the last to deploy his parachute/start gliding, assuring he would be the first to hit the ground. As soon as his feet grazed the jungle's canopy he cut his parachute, opting not to risk getting hung up in the tree branches, braced himself for the jarring impact of the thirty foot freefall, landed, and rolled forward a bit on the mud-saturated floor.

By the time Amy, Rouge, and Knuckles reached the canopy, Sonic was already crouched with his weapon at the ready, scanning all sectors. One by one, Rouge first and Amy last, landed in Sonic's general vicinity. The four quickly sought each other out, scanning all sectors of fire as they crouched close to each other and peeled off their HALO gear.

"I can't believe you cut your 'chute!" Rouge murmured quietly to Sonic. "That must've been one helluva landing."

Sonic shrugged. "I've had worse. Everyone alright?" After everyone gave a collection of nods and thumbs-ups, he continued. "Alright. Rouge, get on the horn with Dowell. Let'em know we're good."

"Yeah, I'd bet he's got something for us, too." Rouge answered as she dialed in her boss's frequency, and hit the 'page' button on her radio.

It wasn't long before Dowell responded. "Alright, good. It seems you four made it down in one piece. A thermal imaging satellite is due to pass in range of the region momentarily. Our objective here is to recover whatever was on that transport plane. Remember, indigenous rebel forces are mixed in with Robotnik's and PoTCW assets. Assume the rebs hostile, and until further notice, give the PoTCW a wide berth. It's four of you against an entire division or so of enemy forces, so you'd be smart to keep engagements to a minimum."

"So I guess our rules of engagement are passive then." Rouge conjectured.

A beat. "That's what I'm recommending, but use your discretion." Dowell answered.

"Hey, ask about air support." Sonic advised.

Rouge nodded. "Yeah, what about air support, boss?"

A beat. "Well," Dowell began. "The _Lincoln_'s battlegroup will not be in range for another ten hours, and I planned on sending Tails out later to get a closer look at the _Leviathan_. Nonetheless, I don't think it smart to napalm the hell out of the jungle unless we want environmentalists crawling up our asses. So, negative on the airstrikes... Hold on. The satellite is now in range. Downloading feed... alright, we got it. Sonic, check your tactical PDA."

"Right." Sonic fished the handheld device out of his cargo pocket, and turned it on. The satellite feed took a brief second to load, then displayed on the small screen. "Alright, I got it..." Sonic grabbed Rouge's radio and spoke through it. "Looks like there's a helluva lot of activity west of here... and what looks like a rebel command post is about three or four miles north of here."

"My thoughts exactly." Dowell agreed. "Okay, here comes our first move. We need to know what radio frequency the rebs are using so that Mr. Carter can eavesdrop on their net. The more we know, the better off we are. And I'm willing to bet that command post has a radio station, so head there."

"Roger that. Oh, by the way, do we have a codename for this little jungle safari?" Sonic asked jokingly.

Dowell laughed. "Actually, that is a good question. The name of this mission will be Operation: ... Anaconda. Anything else?"

The group looked around at each other for a second before Sonic responded. "Negative. Commencing Operation: Anaconda. Out." With that, Sonic cut the transmission, and gave Rouge back her radio. "Well, if anyone was complaining about why these missions send us somewhere cold, this is your lucky day." Sonic remarked and donned his boonie cap from out of his pocket. Following suit, the rest of the gang donned either a patrol cap or boonie cap. "Instead of frostbite, we get to deal with jungle rot! Hope everyone zip locked their spare socks and underwear." He added sarcastically.

Amy sighed. "Though I'm still mad about how this ruined our Christmas."

Sonic laughed. "Oh don't worry, Ames. You'll get to see me in those new bikini briefs soon..." Amy blushed and hit him playfully on the shoulder. Sonic snickered. "Still can't believe you bought those. What's wrong with my boxers?"

Amy smirked. "Oh, like you have room to talk. Remember the two-piece swimsuit you bought me?"

Sonic blinked, trying to suppress a blush but failing, and everyone snickered. "Ames, you've been wearing the same swimsuit since you were 15. It's time to retire it."

The girl hedgehog gave him a saucy smile. "And this one just happens to look a ways skimpier than the old one."

Sonic was beet red by now. "Oh, shut up and let's move out." The snickering turned to silent full-blown laughter before Sonic's stern face made everyone remember themselves. "Everyone wants to be a comedian."

"You started it." Knuckles pointed.

"...Whatever. Rouge, since you have the sniper rifle, take point. Knux, I want that shotgun of yours covering the rear. Ames, cover our right flank and stick close behind me. I hate to say this, but we need to take it slow."

"Ranger file?" Rouge asked.

Sonic nodded. "Yeah. Keep a three pace interval, keep a wide field of view, and watch your step." He breathed a heavy sigh before the group started moving and added. "I hope this goes nice and smooth, otherwise we could be out here for a while."

"Yeesh! Can we at least show a little bit of optimism here?" Amy implored.

Sonic laughed a little, albeit humorlessly. "Ames, optimism is one thing. Being realistic is something completely different." Especially, he didn't add, when he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was going to go sour...

I'll leave it at there for now. Any attempts to go further this chapter ran into a wall. Well, if you'd like, feel free to leave a comment or two. If I'mnot still beefing with my NCOs, I should be able topublish another chapter soon.Roger, out!


End file.
